Village of the Snapes
by ThePet
Summary: *4 up* Meet the family...fearsome Grandmama Livia, Mad Uncle Drusus, and many others...plus the foul Mont-Streppings, and amorous!Narcissa...
1. Part the First

A/N This little attempt is really a series of character sketches put into story form - I guess everyone who writes Snapefics has their own conception of the various aspects of his life and character we don't see in canon - that's what fanfic is about, right? ;-) I've seen a lot of 'Snape's family' fics ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous and hopefully this one falls somewhere in between :-)  
  
Warning: multiple OCs, most of which are deeply disturbing and/or peculiar but none of which are Mary Sues/Larry Stus/in any way important.  
  
Disclaimer: Severus isn't mine, I just enjoy messing with his head. Locations in the story and other characters you recognise aren't mind either. Snape's fearsome relatives, and the delightfully vile Mont- Streppings, however, come from my own twisted imagination.  
  
Finally - the names I use in this story for the OCs come mostly from Roman history - cf. 'I Claudius' by Robert Graves ;-) And the title is pinched from the classic 'Two Ronnies' sketch, 'Village of the Smiths'. And now, eventually, on to the fic!  
  
  
  
The laughter was getting on his nerves.  
  
It made him grimace like a rabid dog.  
  
It made him sit bolt upright in his seat, back muscles so tense they were in danger of spasming.  
  
It made him twitch.  
  
This was all perfectly normal behaviour for Snape, however - thus no one in the Great Hall noticed, and they all went right on laughing, chattering, and generally being children. Damn and blast them.  
  
Poking glumly at a piece of smoked bacon on his plate, Snape barely noticed the overly familiar rush of wings as the morning post arrived; the potions master did not receive owls often, and when he did they tended to be from the Malfoys: disturbing invitations to wine-tasting and/or muggle- torturing events at the Manor from Lucius, gushing notes about Draco's progress from Narcissa. The latter, if possible, were the most unnerving - they were frequently accompanied by photographs of Draco's mother wearing skimpy flowery robes and blowing kisses.  
  
Not that Snape minded receiving pictures of beautiful, infatuated women through the post - it was merely unfortunate that the only beautiful woman he knew who did not find him repulsive was Narcissa, who had once been his fiancee, in the dark days when Grandmother Livia, the Snape matriarch, and hideous Aunty Mildred, head of the nauseating Mont-Strepping family, had been obsessed with joining the two families. At the tender age of sixteen - after many years of forced friendship with the younger Mont-Streppings, who were a foul bunch of thickheads possessing, nevertheless, a certain instinct for self-preservation - Snape had been told by Livia of his betrothal, since birth, to Narcissa Mont-Stepping, she of the pink frills and teddy bear pyjamas, she of the irritatingly girlish giggle and habit of skipping instead of walking.  
  
Thank heaven for Lucius and his bad-boy magnetism! Three days after Snape introduced Narcissa to his handsome best friend, she had called off the engagement; three weeks later she married Malfoy, changing her personality somewhat in the process from airy-fairy to cold fish, for the sake of her husband's sanity. Worryingly, she continued, even to this day, to send Snape perfumed letters assuring him that she was still his 'darling Cissy' though anyone looking at her proud face would not have believed such girlishness possible from such an obvious ice-queen. If only!  
  
"I believe your owl is trying to attract your attention, Severus." A mild voice said in his ear. Snape jumped as he noticed for the first time the impatient bird, perched on his chair, eating his toast.  
  
"What have you brought me, Marius?" There was dread in the potions master's voice - please, not another billet-doux from 'Cissy'! The owl dropped a letter indifferently into Snape's lap and continued on the toast. Snape's long white fingers trembled slightly as he opened the envelope - thankfully it was not perfumed!  
  
To his surprise - though not relief - the letter he withdrew carried his own family crest and was covered in the spidery writing of none other than Grandmother Livia herself. Snape gulped unobtrusively. Looking up he noticed that several staff members were peering at him with interest. Dumbledore was openly reading the letter over Snape's shoulder. It ran like this - Livia had, as usual, written on behalf of the entire family:  
  
Grandson,  
  
We hope this letter finds you well, not that we have any way of knowing, since you appear to have chosen not to communicate with your relatives. The last time we saw you, Severus, was at your grandfather's funeral, and we have not forgotten that your last visit *before* poor Augustus' death was very little prior to that event, and that you visited without warning bringing a gift of a rather unusual wine. You may remember that my delicate stomach most unfortunately prevented me from partaking.  
  
This aside, however, we are writing to inform you that your Uncle Drusus, of whom we have strongly disapproved for several decades, has been reinitiated into the family favour. Drusus has been offered and has accepted the position of Headmaster at Durmstrang school - the school you would have attended, Severus, had not your mother (rest her soul) been so insistent about Hogwarts. We remind you as an aside that your current position as teacher at Hogwarts is a matter of great shame to your family. We did not raise you to play about with potions, Severus. Had we wanted a chemist for a grandson we would have married a muggle!  
  
You will be pleased to know that there will be plenty of opportunity to discuss this and other issues further, since we are planning a family Gathering the weekend after next to celebrate your Uncle's new position. *You are expected to attend this event*. No excuse about long distances are acceptable in this instance - the Gathering will be held at Hogsmeade. The Family will retire in the evenings to Hogwarts - you will thus obtain permission from your employer, by any means necessary, and reply immediately to your loving,  
  
Grandmother.  
  
With a groan, Snape dropped the letter onto the table.  
  
"I should have known." He muttered. "Only grandmama would think it too vulgar to send her bird directly to the recipient of a letter. Only grandmama would have the gall to summon my own owl to fetch a letter for its master."  
  
The other teachers were looking curiously at Snape, and even more curiously at Dumbledore, who had gone rather pale. McGonagall could hardly believe her ears. The man who had defeated Grindlewald, the wizard whom the Dark Lord feared above all others, the headmaster of the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world, was afraid of an elderly lady?  
  
"You have never met Livia, have you, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, as though reading her thoughts. McGonagall shook her head.  
  
"I shall be honoured to introduce her to you." Sneered Snape. "You might get on quite well. She's something of an old cat herself."  
  
McGonagall's eyes narrowed.  
  
"Probably more of an old *bat* from what I gather about your family history, Severus."  
  
Snape glowered, but did not respond, a remarkable thing in itself, since he usually insisted on having the last word in any argument, sweeping from the room before his opponent could find a reply.  
  
"Hogwarts will be honoured to play host to your family Gathering, Severus." Dumbledore was saying unhappily to the Potions master. Snape, looking equally miserable, replied,  
  
"I'm sure grandmama will be enternally grateful." With that, he rose to his feet, muttered his excuses, and stormed from the hall with his usual violence. McGonagall turned thoughtfully to the headmaster.  
  
"This Livia must be truly fearsome, if she frightens our resident terror so much."  
  
Dumbledore did not reply. He was staring at Snape's letter, lying on the table where the potions master had left it.  
  
"Albus?"  
  
"I beg your pardon, Minerva. I was merely contemplating the possibility of taking a short sabbatical…"  
  
"Really, I'm surprised at you! How awful can this woman be?"  
  
"How high is the moon?" Came the distracted reply.  
  
"Well, I refuse to believe it. She is probably just a bitter old woman too used to being put on a pedestal by the rest of her family. I for one will not be cow-towing to her!"  
  
Dumbledore turned to the deputy headmistress, a strange, distant smile playing about his lips.  
  
"In that case, Minerva, perhaps you would like to play hostess at this gathering? I'm sure Severus would welcome your assistance." The gauntlet was thrown down. Pride and a healthy sense of self-efficacy prevented any possibility of refusing the challenge.  
  
"Very well." McGonagall said primly. "This should prove most interesting."  
  
"Interesting," sighed Dumbledore, "is not the word I would have chosen…" 


	2. Part the Second

--Saturday morning--  
  
The day dawned bright and clear.  
  
Snape went through the motions of existing in a complete daze. He rehearsed, in front of a mirror, various ways of greeting Livia, all of which resulted in her slapping him, cursing him, or simply sticking to form and quietly poisoning him later in the evening. He had taken a double dose of bezoar essence in preparation for the latter.  
  
Livia - or rather one of the servants - had owled the previous day to announce that the Hogsmeade meeting had been cancelled, since many family members lived outside the British Isles and could not make it in time. The Snape clan would instead make directly for Hogwarts, where they were expected to arrive sometime in the later afternoon. Dumbledore had instructed all students to remain in their dormitories from five o'clock onwards, and the Great Hall was strictly out of bounds to anyone but staff for the entire weekend. A wise precaution. Grandmama had no fondness for children of any sort; she tolerated those of respected wizarding families, but Snape had a good idea of what chaos might ensue if she was to be introduced to - for example - an over-bright muggle-born like the Granger girl.  
  
Snape was very good at hiding his emotions as a rule, except on those odd occasions - almost all of which involved the Potters, senior or junior, and/or Sirius Black - when he lost his temper and went temporarily berserk. He always regretted such undisciplined displays afterwards, especially since Lucius Malfoy tended to refer to them disparagingly as 'Sevvie's little hissy fits'. However, on this dread day, the potions master was having to make a truly super-human effort suppress the quietly bubbling hysterics that threatened to boil over and scald everyone around him.  
  
By five o'clock, however, the appointed time of Grandmama's arrival, Snape was strangely calm. This could partly be attributed to the vast amount of asphodel-based potions he had been consuming since six that morning, but part of it was the knowledge that the horror was finally here - which meant that the end was in sight.  
  
--Saturday, 5 p.m.--  
  
"I think they are here."  
  
"Oh my God."  
  
"Calm down, Severus."  
  
"I'm perfectly calm! Stop harassing me!"  
  
"She's just your grandmother, pull yourself together, man!"  
  
"That's fine for you to say, McGonagall…" Snape got no further. The black carriage pulled by four plumed flying horses, Livia's favourite method of travel, was descending out of the twilight. It landed gracefully, without a jolt, and out of it stepped…  
  
Two young men, wearing slightly nervous grins. One of them was black- haired and greasy, like Severus; the other, who looked younger, had curly, dirty blonde hair and mildly psychotic blue eyes. The older of the two opened the rear door of the carriage, offering his hand to the person within…a small, thin, claw like hand holding an umbrella handle shaped like a snake appeared, followed by a bony arm swathed in black lace. And following that, the most peculiar creature one could ever imagine calling 'human' emerged, looking like nothing so much as a querulous vampire bat. Livia Snape was tiny, painfully thin - that was discernible even through the thick, curtain-like black robes she was draped in - with a wizened, pointy visage. Wispy grey hair could be seen beneath a drooping black hat, but beneath the hair, eyes like coals glittered with a ferocity that made you want desperately to be somewhere else…anywhere else…  
  
If Severus Snape could be called sinister, then Livia was sinister's grandmother. And then some.  
  
"Greetings, grandson." The voice was cracked with age, nevertheless holding a raspy authority that was enough to make Snape cringe.  
  
"Greetings, grandmama." He replied, tentatively. "Er…how nice to see you."  
  
"You lie." She hissed, peering at Severus. He backed away slightly, indicating Dumbledore and McGonagall.  
  
"You remember Headmaster Dumbledore…"  
  
"Welcome to Hogwarts, Madame Snape."  
  
"…and this is Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress, transfiguration professor, and head of Gryffindor House."  
  
"Gryffindor?" Livia spoke the word as though it were a profanity. "We did not bring you up to associate with Gryffindors, Severus…*or* with Animagi."  
  
McGonagall, torn between anger at being insulted and unwilling respect that Livia had identified her as an Animagus so easily, said nothing, but narrowed her eyes slightly and gave Livia a rather curt nod. Snape, glancing unhappily from one to the other, turned his attention to the young men who accompanied Livia.  
  
"Headmaster, Minerva, may I introduce my cousins Trefusis and Gaius Snape."  
  
"Hello." Said the brothers together, politely enough.  
  
"Welcome, both of you. Will you come inside?" Dumbledore gallantly offered Livia his arm. She hit him with her umbrella.  
  
"I can walk unassisted, I thank you!"  
  
Dumbledore decided to keep his distance.  
  
  
  
--Saturday, 7 p.m.--  
  
Many of the Hogwarts students had spent Saturday afternoon speculating on just what was going on in the Great Hall that would necessitate keeping them out. Some of the older students were quite indignant at Dumbledore's caginess about the whole thing; others feared something terrible and secret was going on.  
  
Fred and George Weasley were running a book, and most of the Gryffindors were assembled in their common room, placing bets.  
  
"A galleon says it's a staff piss-up." Seamus Finnigan was saying.  
  
"Right, that's it. Everyone taken a bet?" George wrote down Seamus' decision and formally closed the book. "Now we need to find out what's going on in there."  
  
"How are we supposed to do that, then?" Demanded Dean Thomas.  
  
"Easy." Retorted Fred. "Someone sneaks along to the Hall and has a look. No problem."  
  
"Well, *I'm* not doing it." Dean said firmly.  
  
"Me neither."  
  
"Nor me."  
  
"Count me out."  
  
In the end, they used Fred's wand as a random selector -though perhaps Fred's idea of random was not quite the same as everyone else's, since the twins took great delight in the fact that the wand chose poor Neville Longbottom to be the Gryffindor spy.  
  
"Don't worry, Neville." Harry comforted the terrified boy, "you can use my cloak."  
  
"And we'll come with you as far as the entrance hall." Put in Hermione, including Harry and Ron in her promise.  
  
"Ok." The unfortunate boy quavered.  
  
Neville, swathed in Harry's invisibility cloak, was soon stumbling unhappily in the direction of the Great Hall. Harry, Hermione and Ron settled themselves on the deserted stairs to wait for him as he tiptoed to the doors and peered in.  
  
Two seconds later he was back, throwing off the cloak in his horror, his face deathly pale and his body shaking with uncontrollable panic.  
  
"Neville!" Hermione cried, alarmed. "What's wrong? What's going in there?"  
  
"Snapes…" whispered Neville.  
  
"Snape's what?" Ron demanded.  
  
"Snapes!" Wailed Neville. "Dozens and dozens of them…"  
  
The trio should, of course, have turned and fled. But they were Gryffindors, and traditional Gryffindor courage allowed them to creep up to the doors, with a trembling Neville in tow, and take a look for themselves.  
  
Neville had been right. Snapes, as far as the eye could see…countless tall, thin, greasy, black-haired denizens, standing in little groups holding drinks and conversations, peering distrustfully at one another as though they didn't like each other very much.  
  
"Bloody hell…" said Ron weakly. And rather too loudly. He cringed as Snape - 'their' Snape - peered around the door, near which he had been lurking, hoping to slip away unnoticed at some opportune moment.  
  
"And just what," the potions master growled, "are you Gryffindors doing here?"  
  
"We…we, er…"  
  
Snape's eyes narrowed, but before he could speak again, a tiny old woman clubbed him in the back of the head with an umbrella almost as long as she was tall.  
  
"Move, stupid child! What are these brats doing here?" She glared at Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the cowering Neville. But then, incredibly, her expression changed. It didn't soften -her face would have cracked - but a glint of interest came into her sharp black eyes. She leered at them - and especially at Harry.  
  
"Well, Severus, why aren't you making these young people welcome?"  
  
"Grandmama, they are…"  
  
"Introduce them to me, ignorant wastrel!"  
  
"Yes, grandmama." Snape growled, glaring at the Gryffindors with an expression that quite clearly said he'd get them later, and when they were least expecting it. "Weasley, Granger, Longbottom, and…*Potter*." He spat out Harry's name.  
  
"Hmm…" mused Livia, thoughtfully. "A Weasley…pureblood family…some influence with the ministry…yes, Weasleys have their uses…Longbottom, I fancy I know your parents. Aurors, were they not?"  
  
Neville nodded dumbly.  
  
"Always helpful to keep in with aurors…I know your grandmother as well, boy. Respectable lady…and Potter…" her eyes fixed on Harry. "Of course, you are the boy we must all thank for ridding us of that badly brought up, nasty little upstart, Voldemort…"  
  
Ron and Neville winced at the name.  
  
"Granger…I don't know any Grangers…"  
  
"I'm muggle born, Madame Snape." Hermione informed her crisply. Livia shot her a look.  
  
"Are you, indeed? So you know nothing, I expect, of our family?"  
  
"Actually," Hermione began in the tone that meant she was about to give a lecture, "I read that the Snape family is one of the oldest and most respected pureblood families in existence…" before she could go on, Livia burst into cackles.  
  
"Splendid! Splendid! Don't just stand there, you great dimwit," she snapped at Severus, "invite these charming children in."  
  
"Oh, but…" seeing the look in her eye, Snape licked his lips, shivered slightly and turned a horrible smile upon the students. "Do come in, *dear* children."  
  
With a fearful glance at Snape, Neville, Harry and Ron slipped past him and the leering Livia into the great hall. Hermione followed with her head held high, smiling politely at Livia as she passed her.  
  
"*Now* what?" Gasped Ron, as they stood in the midst of a sea of Snapes.  
  
"I don't know." Harry whispered back. "We mingle, I suppose. Try to find Dumbledore or McGonagall." Harry remembered vaguely reading a children's book, some years ago, about two normal everyday muggle children who'd been invited to a party by a little witch girl - surrounded by other, less friendly witches, and especially the little witch's fearsome, evil great-great-great-etc grandmother, they had spent a fearful evening hoping not to be poisoned or used in some deadly party game. Standing here surrounded by Snapes, Harry was reminded uncomfortably of that once-amusing story.  
  
In attempting to find Dumbledore, the group was accosted by several Snapes, thankfully many of which seemed *less* sinister than the potions master. They met Trefusis and Gaius, who were quite friendly and offered them blackberry punch; they met two brothers from the Irish side of the family, the Gallagher-Snapes, who confided that they would be performing at a musical soiree later; and they also saw, to their astonishment, what appeared to be a Muggle, hovering uncertainly in a corner.  
  
"Erm…excuse me," said Harry politely to Gaius, "who is that over there?" He nodded towards the bewildered looking muggle.  
  
"Oh, he's from a splinter branch of the family. Bit of a strange story, really - one of Mad Uncle Drusus' daughters ran off and married a muggle - he's her son. He doesn't really understand about wizards, I gather, doesn't even know he's a half-blood. He's an actor or something…pleasant sort of chap, his name's Alan, Alan Rickman-Snape." Gaius paused to take a sip of punch while Trefusis added,  
  
"He's here for the…er, *ritual* afterwards."  
  
"Ritual?"  
  
"Yes, you know, the muggle sacrifice. Happens at all good pureblood family gatherings."  
  
Horrified, Harry thanked Gaius and Trefusis for the information and immediately scurried over to where the unfortunate Alan Rickman-Snape was standing.  
  
"Oh, hello," said the unsuspecting halfblood brightly. "Bit of a funny party, this, isn't it? I'm not really sure I like it."  
  
"Leave!" Harry hissed. "Leave, now."  
  
"Well, that's a bit rude…surely I should…"  
  
"I mean it! These people are dangerous! Get out if you value your life!"  
  
The actor simply smiled at him.  
  
"You're pulling my leg." He said jovially. Fortunately, Severus Snape turned up at that moment, and after giving the other man a swift, appraising look, glanced quickly around to check the coast was clear, pulled out his wand, muttered "obliviate!" and ushered his confused relative out of the doors. Harry and the others sighed with relief as they heard Alan's car revving up.  
  
"Kindest thing, really," Snape murmured, putting away his wand. "Wish *I* could just forget all about them…ah me…" he wandered off into the crowd.  
  
"There's Dumbledore!" Ron hissed suddenly, pointing. "And…Malfoy!?"  
  
The headmaster was indeed in conversation with Draco and Lucius Malfoy. Draco's mother Narcissa was with them too, but she seemed not to be very interested in what Dumbledore was saying. She kept glancing around and licking her lips in a disturbingly predatory fashion.  
  
"I'm not going over there while Malfoy's with him." Harry muttered darkly. The group was debating what to do, and had settled on staying close to the seemingly safe Gaius and Trefusis when Livia swept past, leering at them again, with a worried-looking Snape in tow.  
  
"Grandmama, you haven't? Please say you haven't!"  
  
"I am the martriarch of this family, Severus. It is up to me whom I choose to invite."  
  
"But…grandmama, they are…"  
  
"One of the oldest branches of our family." Said Livia firmly. "They will be here very shortly, so I suggest you make the appropriate arrangements."  
  
Snape stalked off, growling to himself.  
  
"Goodness," mused Trefusis. "Now we're going to see some sport."  
  
"What's the matter?" Asked Hermione.  
  
Gaius lowered his voice. "She's invited…the Sackville-Snapes." He whispered.  
  
"The Sackville-Snapes? What's so special about them?"  
  
But before Gaius could answer, a short fanfare sounded. A hush fell on the room. The great doors opened, and in came…Hagrid. He was carrying a large wooden box, more than six feet long and two three feet wide, on his shoulder. As everyone watched in expectant silence, Hagrid brought in a second, slightly smaller box…then a third…a fourth…and finally, a fifth, much smaller box, perhaps four feet in length. He set each down very carefully, then stepped back.  
  
Livia stalked forward, pausing beside the largest box, and proceeded to rap three times on its lid.  
  
"Cousin Vladimere?" She called. "Can you hear me?"  
  
Holding their breath, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville could not help but lean forward for a closer look as slowly, inch by inch, the lid was raised…  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N Silly, yes? :-) Please review anyway! 


	3. Part the Third

A/N Apologies for the delay in updating - inspiration has finally returned. Well, sort of. Thanks for all your reviews :-) By the way the next chapter of 'When in Rome', for those reading it, has been written, but won't be posted yet because - well, it's awful, so there's going to have to be some editing. And now, a brief recap:  
  
"The Sackville-Snapes? What's so special about them?"   
But before Gaius could answer, a short fanfare sounded. A hush fell on the room. The great doors opened, and in came...Hagrid. He was carrying a large wooden box, more than six feet long and two three feet wide, on his shoulder. As everyone watched in expectant silence, Hagrid brought in a second, slightly smaller box...then a third...a fourth...and finally, a fifth, much smaller box, perhaps four feet in length. He set each down very carefully, then stepped back.  
Livia stalked forward, pausing beside the largest box, and proceeded to rap three times on its lid.  
"Cousin Vladimere?" She called. "Can you hear me?"  
Holding their breath, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville could not help but lean forward for a closer look as slowly, inch by inch, the lid was raised...  
  
A/N On with the next part!!  
  
  
  
"Ah, cousin Vladimere." Livia murmured, pleased, as the lid of the box was completely thrown aside by a thin, pale hand emerging from within. The hand was followed by a wrist hidden in lace, an arm draped in dark wine coloured robes, and, eventually, a head and body rose from the depths of what was now unmistakably a coffin.  
"Cousin Livia." Vladimere Sackville-Snape purred. He had a deep, silky voice, tinged with a slight but noticeable accent. "How wery nice to see you again."  
"Likewise, cousin. You remember my grandson..." she made the word 'grandson' sound like 'useless git' - "Severus. He is hosting this Gathering."  
"Ah, yes, of course. Greetings, great-cousin Severus."  
Snape, apparently speechless with mortification, simply bowed awkwardly, his face ashen.  
"I told you!" Ron hissed in Harry's ear. "I always said he wasn't human. He's a vampire! I never thought Dumbledore would employ a vampire! "  
Neville, beside them, shivered, but Hermione snapped,  
"Of course he wouldn't. Snape isn't a vampire, he just has undead relatives, that's all. Don't we all have a family member who embarrasses us at parties?"  
"Drinking the blood of virgins is a bit worse than embarrassing, Hermione!" Ron growled. She nudged him sharply; the other lids were opening. Out of the second climbed a beautiful, pale, dark-haired woman, obviously Mrs. Sackville-Snape.  
"Cousin Malicia." Livia greeted her. The vampiress nodded regally.   
Yet another box opened, revealing a tall, thin young man who squinted in the light. He was greeted as 'great-cousin Nicholas'. The next box contained a girl of about sixteen, pale and dark-haired like the others, called Teresa. The last, smallest box held a cherubic boy of about ten, whose bright eyes were everywhere, taking in the scene with repressed excitement. He was greeted as 'little great-cousin Valentine'.  
Snape - 'their' Snape - bowed politely to each member of the vampire branch of his family, looking increasingly unhappy as each creature of the night emerged.  
"Vere is ze food?" Vladimere enquired after a few minutes of pleasantries. "Ve haff had a long journey."  
"Allow me." Snape scurried off, seemingly happy to get away for a minute. The rest of the hall's inhabitants remained still, staring fixedly at the vampires in varying degrees of shocked horror. Livia, however, looked pleased with herself.  
"Oh, cousin." She murmured to Vladimere, spotting Harry and the others standing nearby. "Do let me introduce our *special* guests for the evening." She beckoned them over. Neville had to be dragged. Staring into Vladimere's burning black eyes, Harry felt a wave of nausea pass over him; he could feel Neville trembling beside him, and heard Ron's rapid breathing on the other side. Hermione looked pale but determined not to appear flustered.  
"This," Livia said, putting a clawlike hand on Harry's shoulder, "is Harry Potter."  
"Oh, indeed?" Apparently even Transylvanian vampires had heard of him. Cousin Vladimere looked interestedly at Harry's scar. "Greetings, Master Potter."  
Livia introduced Ron and Neville briskly. Vladimere barely glanced at them, however.  
"And this," purred Livia, "is Miss Granger. She is muggle-born, Vladimere. Isn't that remarkable?"  
A strange look which Harry didn't like at all passed between the Snapes. Amazingly, Hermione didn't seem to notice. She was staring at Vladimere with a disturbingly familiar expression on her face: it was very reminiscent of the look she had had in the second year when talking to Gilderoy Lockhart...  
"Oh, yes, remarkable." Murmured Vladimere, smiling at her and revealing long, sharp eye-teeth. Neville whimpered. All his nightmares were coming true, and Harry doubted whether any of Snape's relatives would be obliging enough to put on Neville's grandmother's clothing just to soothe the boy's fears.  
Hermione, meanwhile, was smiling up at Vladimere in a gooey sort of way. Fortunately before she could speak to him, Snape emerged from the still-transfixed crowd, carrying a tray on which sat five goblets filled with - well, Harry didn't want to think about what they were filled with. The vampires took them eagerly, however, and even the horrible slurping sounds they made didn't seem to put Hermione off.  
"Do you have nothing more...fresh?" Vladimere asked. Snape shrugged apologetically, but shot a faintly nervous glance at Hermione.  
  
"I don't like this." Harry muttered.  
"You think I do?" Replied Ron, hotly. "It's horrible! How do we get out of here?"  
"It's not just that. I'm worried about Hermione. I think the Snapes are up to something."  
"It wouldn't surprise me."  
Their fears were not assuaged when, ten minutes later, they overheard Snape having a sort of argument with Livia - or rather, Livia was angrily insisting on something while Snape whined unhappily.   
"But, grandmama, she's the only student in my Friday afternoon potions class with half a brain!"  
"Your silly potions lessons do not interest me, grandson. This Gathering is far more important."  
"But, grandmama..."  
"There will be no arguments! We must have an alternative since you were foolish enough to let that actor go."  
"He...er...had to leave early. He was...filming...in...Borneo."  
"Hmph."  
"Does it *have* to be Granger? Why not do us all a favour and use Longbottom?"  
"Young Longbottom is a pureblood!"  
"But he's an idiot!"  
"Nevertheless, he is a pureblood and thus unacceptable for our purposes."  
"But grandmama..."  
"Stop arguing immediately, silly child! Do you remember what happened to the last wizard who argued with me?"  
"Of course I remember. Father's remains are still in an urn on the mantelpiece."  
"Shut up, then."  
Snape fell silent. After a moment, Livia spoke again.  
"Where *is* Drusus? Really, this is terribly bad form. The guest of honour and he cannot do us the courtesy of arriving punctually."  
"Ill just...go and see what's keeping him."  
Harry turned to Ron in horror as Snape disappeared into the crowd once more.   
"There're going to use Hermione in that muggle-sacrificing ritual!"  
"They wouldn't dare." Ron replied, but with a slight tremor in his voice. "Dumbledore wouldn't allow it."  
Harry sighed with relief. Ron was right, of course.  
"Where *is* Dumbledore though?" Wondered Neville, looking around. The headmaster was nowhere to be seen.  
"Come to think of it...where's McGonagall? And Hagrrid? And all the other teachers?"  
Harry scanned the room urgently, but Ron was right - the Hogwarts staff was nowhere to be seen.   
They were alone with the Snapes.  
  
"Where's Hermione?" Harry hissed. He, Ron and Neville were hiding behind the punch table.  
"Over there." Neville pointed fearfully. "Talking to one of the Sackville-Snapes."  
Harry looked - Neville was right. Hermione was engaged in deep conversation not with Vladimere, but with Nicholas, who was leering at her in a most predatory fashion.  
"Go and get her." Harry hissed to Ron.  
"Not on your life! That'd mean going near *him.*"  
"He won't bite us."  
"You sure?"  
Their attention was distracted, however, by a drawling exclamation nearby.  
"*Potter*! Now *what* are you doing here?"  
"Malfoy." Harry growled.  
"I can't imagine professor Snape would invite *you* to a family Gathering. Oh - perhaps you're here for the *entertainment* afterwards, yah?"  
"Go away." Harry hissed.  
"Oh, trying to remain inconspicuous, I suppose? Worried about the Sackvilles, eh? They're rather nice people actually - but then again they're not likely to attack *me*, we're old friends of the family."  
"Sod off." Muttered Harry. Malfoy's mother came over at that moment and he wondered whether she was going to have a go at him for insulting her son. But Narcissa had other things on her mind - one other thing in particularly.  
"You - boy! Yes, you. Have you seen Sevvy?"  
"Who?" Asked Harry, blankly.  
"Professor Snape! I've been looking for him all evening but he's avoiding me, the tease!" Amazingly, Mr. Malfoy didn't look the least bit disturbed by all this. He was taking in his surroundings in an approving sort of way, smirking to himself.  
"Er...he went that way." Harry told Narcissa. She squealed in delight and swept off.   
"See you *later*, Potty." Draco drawled, following his mother. Harry turned to Ron.  
"That's it. We get Hermione and get out of here, now. This is getting ridiculous."  
It was more difficult a venture than they expected - they had only managed to wade through a few dozen Snapes before a fanfare sounded and 'their' Snape rushed past, looking harassed and rather rumpled, with a squealing Naricssa Malfoy in tow. Harry, driven by desperation, planted himself firmly in front of Snape, almost tripping him over.  
"Move, Potter!" the potions master growled.  
"Tell me what's going on!" Harry snapped back, refusing to move. Neville gulped in fear. Ron looked on admiringly.  
"The Mont-Streppings have arrived." Snape explained unwillingly. "Now get out of my way!"   
Reluctantly Harry did so, and Snape rushed off, Narcissa tripping after him. Ron wrinkled his nose.  
"That's disgusting! She's having it off with him!"  
"Urgh!" Agreed Neville.  
"Forget about that. What about Hermione?"  
"We'll have to..."  
But they had little chance to do anything, because at that moment things began to happen. First, a coach-load of gaudily dressed, toothily smiling witches and wizards tumbled through the doors, led by one of the most enormous women Harry had ever seen. The Mont-Streppings had indeed arrived. The crowd parted to let them through, and the woman made her way straight to Livia.  
"Darling Livvie!"  
"Millie." Replied Madame Snape, with something closer to effusion than she'd demonstrated all evening. The women kissed each other's cheeks; 'Millie' continued to simper, turning her attention to Severus Snape, hovering unhappily nearby.  
"Sevvy!" She roared. "Say hello to Aunty Millie!" She picked him up bodily - she was several inches taller than him - covering him in sloppy kisses as he struggled in her grip.   
"Hello...aunty...Mille!" He gasped painfully. Harry felt almost sorry for him. Eventually Mildred Mont-Strepping put her victim down and turned to Narcissa, who, surprisingly, simpered every bit as enthusiastically, returning Millie's vigorous embrace and giggling madly.   
"Dear Cissy!" Millie exclaimed, then, spotting Draco, "and *dear* little Drackie!"  
To Harry's supreme delight Mildred scooped up Malfoy, petting him as though he was a baby, covering him in more of her soppy kisses. Malfoy, terrified, struggled wildly.  
"Isn't he darling!" Crooned Millie. Eventually she set Draco down, and he ran to hide behind his father, who was standing firmly away from the big woman.  
"But Livvie, dear, do let me introduce you to my sister and her family! This is Margarita!" Margarita, Millie's sister, was amazingly unlike her - tall, but very thin, not so red in the face. However, the physical difference was obviously the only one, for she squealed and fawned every bit as much as Millie, causing Draco to duck out of sight behind Lucius again.  
"And this is her daughter Helena!"  
A young woman of about twenty emerged from behind Margarita, beaming on the assembled company.  
"Helena *isn't married*!" Margarita hissed confidentially to Narcissa. Millie nodded vigorously, and all three women shot meaningful looks at Draco, who trembled visibly.   
"Drackie, dear, why don't you take Helena to get a glass of punch?" Warbled Millie.  
Helena, apparently delighted, grabbed Draco's arm and bore him off in the direction of the alcohol. Ron turned to Harry, about to make a remark on this happy turn of affairs - but the excitement was not yet over. A sudden rush of great wings made everyone look up, and Livia exclaimed,   
"Ah, Drusus! About time!"  
A majestic hawk was sweeping its away across the hall, carrying something in its claws. The Snapes cleared a space for it to land in the very centre of the room; rather than touching down, however, the moment the bird reached head height, it transformed...into a tall elderly man with grey hair almost to his feet and a long grey beard.  
"Amadeus!" Livia snapped. "Where is your master?"  
For answer, the grand old man pointed downwards. A wicker basket stood at his feet; out of it climbed a sleek red fox, its fur tinged a little with grey, its black eyes very bright, looking everywhere.  
"Drusus. Stop being foolish." Growled Livia. The fox stood up on its hind legs, capered around a little as though making fun of her, and then - transfigured.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A.N 'Aunty Millie' does have some basis in reality - but just who she's based on I'm not saying ;-) 


	4. Part the Fourth

Drusus Snape was a tall man, with sharp black eyes and a surprising sweep of once-auburn, now grey-streaked hair. He had the standard Snape family hooked nose and sallow complexion, but unlike Severus Snape and most of the rest of them, Drusus' smile suggested genuine friendliness rather than toothache.  
He beamed happily upon the gathered Snapes, and bowed deeply to Livia.  
"Dear sister, what a great pleasure it is to answer your summons immediately."  
Livia was unimpressed by the sarcasm.  
"Had you answered immediately, my *dear* brother, you would have arrived several hours ago.  
"Details..." Drusus waved this off. "Ah, Severus! You are our host for this evening, I believe?"  
"Yes, Uncle." Muttered the potions master, looking faintly disgruntled.  
"Still a chemist?"  
"I teach potions, Uncle."  
"Yes...quite. Well, someone has to do it, I supposed." He leaned over the diminutive Livia to hiss loudly in Snape's ear, "that's it, son, fight the good fight."   
Livia looked disgusted, Snape confused. Poking Drusus with her umbrella, the matriarch herded him in the direction of the Sackville-Snapes, followed by each group of guests in turn, with Snape following grimly.  
"You remember dear Mildred Mont-Strepping and her family..."  
"God, yes."  
"And the Malfoys; Lucius..."  
"Good evening."  
"Narcissa."  
"Dear lady!"  
"...and little Draco..."  
"Hello, young man. And this must be your girlfriend, I suppose? "  
Draco forced a sick sort of smile; Helena Mont-Strepping was hanging on to his arm, giggling.   
"We have some unexpected guests, Drusus." Livia went on, poking him towards the punch table. "By the way, Severus, what has happened to your colleagues?"  
"Quite!" Agreed Drusus. "I wanted a word with Albus Dumbledore. His brother is an old pal of mine."  
"I'll...see if I can find him." Snape slunk off. Livia continued to prod Drusus in the direction of Harry, Ron and Neville, who still lurked despairingly behind the punch table.  
"We need to find Dumbledore." Harry was muttering to Ron. "He'll know what to do about Hermione. Or McGonagall...bet she'd be a match for Livia."  
"But where *are* they?" Ron hissed back. "They've bloody disappeared."  
"Children!" The three boys jumped violently as Livia came up behind them. "I wish to introduce my brother, Drusus Maximillius Snape, who has been made Headmaster of Durmstrang School. This Gathering is held in his honour."  
"Er...hello. I mean, good evening." Harry managed, awkwardly, staring up at the strange old man.  
"Well, hello, young chaps."  
"Neville Longbottom, Ronald Weasley, and *Harry Potter*." Livia intoned. Drusus peered at them.  
"Potter eh? Nice. I mean, nice to meet you, boys. How are you enjoying the party eh?"  
"Er...yeah...it's...great." Muttered Ron. Neville squeaked something.  
"Drusus, a friend of these boys is also here, a muggle-born, Miss Granger. You must talk to her, I feel she might be...helpful to us, later."  
"Oh! Ah." Drusus was prodded off. Harry turned desperately to Ron.  
"That's it, we're finding a teacher, now. Even if it's Snape."  
Neville moaned, but Ron said,  
"I think it'll have to be. None of the others are around."  
"Harry took a deep breath. "Come on."  
They made for Snape's last known location; he had been heading towards the high table, but when they reached it, there was no sign of him. Draco and Helena Mont-Strepping were there, however, sitting together; Helena was smiling sappily at Malfoy, who looked ill. Harry couldn't resist.  
"Malfoy...seen professor Snape?"  
"Get lost, Potter." Snapped Draco.  
"No need to bite my head off. Maybe your girlfriend's seen him?"   
Helena giggled.  
"Draco's a real catch, you know." Harry confided to her, loudly. "Fantastic Quidditch player..."  
Ron looked amazed for a moment, but quickly caught on, and chimed in,   
"Yeah...and he's good in lessons, too, really clever. They say intelligence is in the genes, don't they, Harry?"  
"Yeah, and sporting ability, as well."  
"His kids would be really talented." Confirmed Ron, nodding sagely. Malfoy looked as though he really was going to be sick; Helena was beaming at him. Harry only had to wait a few moments before Malfoy pointed in the direction of the back door leading out of the hall, and muttered,  
"He went through there."  
"Thanks...Drackie." Harry grinned, and led the way.  
  
The door was locked, strangely, but a quick spell opened it easily, and Harry, Ron and Neville slipped through. They found themselves in an empty corridor.  
"What would Snape be doing in here?" Ron wondered. "Unless...he's with Malfoy's mum." He shuddered.  
"No, I saw her talking to that enormous Mont-Strepping woman." Said Neville.  
"Which one?"  
"The *most* enormous one."  
"Thank God for that." Muttered Ron.  
"Listen!" Harry snapped suddenly, waving at them to be quiet. Voices could be heard, dimly, apparently coming from somewhere inside the wall.  
"What the..." Harry shook his head, listening carefully. He traced the sound to several panels of wood partway down the corridor, and stood before it, frowning.  
"I don't like this..." Neville whimpered, backing away. It was fortunate he chose to do so; the panel right in front of him suddenly swung upwards and outwards, Neville squeaking in fear as none other than Severus Snape stepped out into the corridor.  
"What the devil are you three doing?" He growled, and tried to slam the panel shut...but not before Harry spotted movement behind him. Shooting a look at Ron, he shoved past Snape, who looked furious, and climbed through the gap left by the panel.  
Harry found himself in a small, dimly lit room, clearly a storeroom of some kind...it contained only dusty old furniture, a musty, smell, and...  
"Professor Dumbledore! Professor McGonagall! Hagrid!"  
The three of them were sitting on boxes in the middle of the room; Hagrid bent over so that his head didn't brush the ceiling. McGonagall half-rose, and if Harry hadn't known her better he would have sworn she was blushing slightly.  
"What...I mean, sorry to disturb you...er...but what are you all *doing*?" Harry couldn't help asking. The teachers exchanged guilty looks, but did not answer immediately.  
"Are you...are you *hiding*?" Harry wondered, amazed.  
"It is not hiding, Potter." Muttered McGonagall; she was definitely blushing. "We have made a...strategic retreat."  
Dumbledore, far from being embarrassed, looked rather amused. "I suggest, Harry, that you and your friends do the same. Severus!" He called suddenly; the sound of Snape berating Ron and Neville could clearly be heard in the corridor outside. Snape's greasy head appeared around the panel.  
"Yes, Headmaster?"  
"Let the boys come in here, please. And you had better get back to your...relatives."  
Snape, looking immensely sulky, stepped aside to allow Ron and Neville to step into the room. Or rather, Ron stepped in; Neville fell through the gap, and the way he rubbed his behind as he got up gave the distinct impression that Snape had *assisted* his arrival somewhat. The potions master gave one and all a last, filthy glare before departing.  
"Do sit down." Dumbledore indicated boxes. "Now that we have a fair number, would anyone like a game of cards?"  
"Potter." McGonagall said sharply, ignoring Dumbledore, " where is Miss Granger?"   
Harry, Ron, and Neville exchanged worried looks.  
"That's why we came to find you, professor...s. Hermione is talking to Nicholas Sackville-Snape."  
"He's used some sort of charm on her!" Ron growled angrily.  
"If that's true," muttered McGonagall dryly, "he's the first member of the Snape family I've ever known to have any."  
"This could be quite serious." Dumbledore murmured, peering at the boys over his half-moon spectacles. "Did Madame Livia introduce Hermione to the Sackvilles, by any chance?"  
"Yes, she did. And she made a big deal of her being Muggle-born." Said Ron, before Harry could answer. "The Snapes are up to something, they want someone for their Muggle sacrifice now Alan Rickman-Snape's escaped."   
Dumbledore looked astonished.  
"Muggle sacrifice?" He said wonderingly.  
"Do you three honestly think that Professor Dumbledore would allow such a thing?" Demanded McGonagall.  
"They wouldn' dare, 'arry!" Put in Hagrid, who had been sitting silently on his box, looking ashamed of himself, until now.  
"Well, they obviously want her for something, professor." Harry argued. "Nicholas Sackville-Snape seemed to be...hypnotising her, or something."  
"Ah, yes." Murmured Dumbledore. "An ability common among vampires." He heaved a sigh. "I suspect that Livia's intentions, while far from pure, are not quite what they seem. Miss Granger is certainly not in any danger of being involved in a sacrificial ritual; Livia has another, altogether different sort of ceremony in mind."  
"What is it?" Ron wondered.  
"Marriage."  
"What!?" Cried Harry, Ron and Neville, together.  
"She's too young!" Harry exclaimed.  
"That's...that's sick!" Agreed Ron.  
"Urgh." Said Neville, less eloquently but with equal feeling.  
"Livia would not suggest marriage immediately, but a long betrothal. And Nicholas Sackville-Snape is not, physically speaking, much older than Hermione. Chronologically speaking - he can wait."  
"But...why would Livia want one of her relatives to marry a Muggle-born?" Wondered Harry.  
"Vampires are not capable of propagation by the...er...usual means." Dumbledore explained. McGonagall cleared her throat, and looked uncomfortable, while Hagrid blushed. "Neither is it possible for vampires and pureblood wizards to...er...propagate by the usual means. Therefore, in order for a vampire to...er..."  
"Propagate by the usual means...." Said Harry, Ron, and Neville.  
"he must marry a muggle female. The Sackville-Snapes are clearly intending to introduce new blood into the family - if you will forgive the pun."  
McGonagall looked as though she would not. "Miss Granger could be in serious danger. Someone must intervene at once!"  
"I quite agree." Said Dumbledore, gravely.   
There was a long pause. Harry, Ron and Neville looked at the teachers expectantly; the teachers looked at one another, unhappily. Eventually, Dumbledore said calmly,  
"Off you go then, Harry." 


End file.
